


'Still the same songs with the same old beats'

by Forbiddenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and also some, at the end, dogwalker!Calum, hints of an, just two boys being cute okay, luke and ash arnt mentioned sorry, regular!michael, simply just, the slightest smallest bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forbiddenmichael/pseuds/Forbiddenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weird to use the analogy that music so rowdy and thumping and bass-y, would be compared to the slight whisper of a friend directly hushed into your ear.  But if silence could be deafening, then music loud enough to leave your ears ringing, could quieten the churning and pulsating rhythm of the word around you. </p><p>or Michael has a dog practically leap into his lap, and in any other circumstance he would have shoved it off, but under these circumstances, he couldn't be happier. The dog's owner seams to agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Still the same songs with the same old beats'

**Author's Note:**

> here's another conversion for you, some simple cutesy malum!!
> 
> alsoooo ive found myself a beta woop!! so big big big thanks to awesomekj23 for going through this even with your exams :* 
> 
> so yes hope you like this!!! and dw I have the 5th part of the chaptered fic in my draft just waiting to be beta'd ;) 
> 
> ENJOY!!

That boy with the dog was at the park again today, Michael thought. Well to say it was a park would be an over exaggeration. The yellow, measly, patch of grass that had been placed opposite his apartment block was a truly lame excuse for a park. It was one of those, so named ‘Conservation areas’ that was set up by the council in the local area as some way of convincing people that the space barley bigger than a shopping centre’s, well a small shopping centres, car park, was adequate in battling the amount of chemicals they had pumped into the atmosphere when building the high rise buildings. The ‘park’ was in the shadow of the pack of huge story buildings and constantly felt dark and gloomy because of this.

There was a singular, formally shingled now only dirty, path running from one side of the area to the other, leading to a gate which was the only way in and out of a fenced in area. To get anywhere else, you would have to walk through the grass that was always dotted with those clumps of grass that you get when grass is cut too quickly and, more than likely, with a cheap lawnmower. Three out of the promised thirty trees had managed to actually grow here, and one of them was where Michael found himself sitting under most days.

Why he sat under a tree, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he was doing it to keep in the shade, when the buildings that circled it blocked out the sun anyway. But he kicked away the beer bottles from unruly youths, and advanced to the area anyway. God, when did he start sounding so old, he thought. Those unruly youths were his age, kinda, well in this area anyway. Not that there was anything wrong about this area. Except the noisy, rowdy, and most likely drug abusing boys that constantly submitted his ears to the thudding of loud music through the thin walls of his apartment, or the needles that he would occasionally have to step over in a back-alley short cut, or the sound of babies crying way too loudly in the arms of those who were way too young, or... Well, okay maybe it wasn’t a nice area.

But the pathetic excuse of a ‘park’ was not what had him coming there every day. Nor was it the slightly emo, but not actually emo boy with the scruffy white dog, who always walked through the area along the shingle path. He came to the shade of one of the three trees to, kind of escape. It wasn’t that much of a secret exit that led to the top of a roof to watch the sunset, like in so many books now-a-days, but when the bark of one of the trees was scratching at the back of one of his hoodies or jackets, and the spikey grass underneath was either leaving marks in his bare legs or poking through his jeans, and the volume of his music was just loud enough to drown out the jeering and crashing of beer bottles, it was peaceful.

Inside himself, something settled, like when the rustling of the leaves fluttered past him but he couldn’t actually hear the rustling sound they made, or when wind stroked and ruffled his hair without so much as disturbing him. Something inside of him that was always fluttering and crashing and rattling, seemed to just relax, like a bird in flight for too long finally landing. So maybe it was stupid to feel grounded with the smell of cigarette smoke from open windows contaminating his lungs, but did it matter? Michael didn’t think so anyway. Which is how he found himself under a tree, after deviating from the poor excuse of a path.

 

Often the sounds he chose to drown the world out with were loud, loud in a way that seemed so quiet to him, as if the words were whispered to him through tiny earphones. Weird to use the analogy that music so rowdy and thumping and bass-y, would be compared to the slight whisper of a friend directly hushed into your ear. But if silence could be deafening, then music loud enough to leave your ears ringing, could quieten the churning and pulsating rhythm of the word around you. And it did. Loud and impulsive solos and riffs caused a level of solace, and maybe it was because he couldn’t even hear himself think, let alone the sounds of the world around him, that he felt calm.

No thoughts and torments of his own inner thoughts clouding around him and following his every move. It was good. Good in a way that maybe wasn’t healthy for his ears as the music was loud enough to be heard even when his headphones were plugged into his ears, but good in that he could escape when the walls of a world that he had created for himself seemed to feel too high to climb in order to escape. Maybe that’s why there was something inside of him that was constantly fluttering, it was something striving to survive and clawing its way out of him in an attempt to escape.

And a scrambling, yellowing furred dog brought that escape. One day, lying under that shade of the same tree as usual, something almost feral and rabid launched itself into the red-head’s lap. Michael had been lying down, head resting on a grey bunched up hoodie, since he preferred this position even though goose bumps bloomed on his skin from the chill in the shade, and his tangled headphones were blasting loudly into his ears. The thumping of the music masked the thumping of heavy black converse clad feet on the ground, as a person ran towards the unsuspecting Michael.

The writhing mass of fur was on his plush stomach before he could do anything to stop it, and it clawed at his- already ripped- shirt. To say it was clawing made it sound almost malicious but it was more as if it was jumping up and down on his stomach and chest, claws biting into his skin, in order to gain attention. At the same time as this frantic jumping, a wet pink tongue lapped at his face, smearing doggy saliva everywhere.

Having had no warning of the approaching mayhem, Michael’s reaction was slow. Not having time to stop the piercing of his skin, and only beginning to react when the dog began to lick and lick at his nose and mouth. Its clawing had yanked the prised headphones out of his ears and only now had a confused Michael managed to hear the shouts of “RJ”, “RJ oh my god, come back!” and “For god’s sake you stupid dog!”

Michael snapped upright, knocking the dog off his stomach and onto the tops of his legs. It sat there momentarily dazed, until it stood on its hind legs and put its front legs on the pale boy’s chest. It tried to lick at his face, failed, and proceeded to lick all over Michael’s neck and cuff of his t-shirt instead. It had beady black eyes and stared at him with its tongue lolling and head tipped to the side.

When Michael simply sat there, dazed, his arms hanging limp at his sides after not actually knowing how to handle the dog on top of him without coming across as repulsed, it seemed to whine, demanding affection and attention in a way comparable to a baby. The shouts got closer and then the dog was lifted of his lap. Its little legs thrashed slightly and it whined, but whined differently to when he was trying to get his attention. It reminded Michael of a kid whining at their dad or mum for something they knew they couldn’t have but wanted anyway.

Michael could have said a shadow fell over him, or that his skin grew chilly from the blocking of the sun or just something equally cliché, but seeing as he was shaded anyway it wouldn’t have proven anything. But the guy now with the wriggling dog in his arms would have been tall enough to block the sun anyway, if there was one that is. But really, it wouldn’t have mattered. The boy was the slightly emo yet not emo boy; however there was nothing dark and grungy about the blinding smile and sparkling white teeth that cracked across his face.

He was smiling at the boy currently still sat on the grass, lips pulled back in a huge grin, and his deep chocolate eyes shone. Michael would have said they looked shiny, but that made it seem like he was crying, which he was far from doing. The dog spun around and squirmed in his toned, tanned and tattooed arms, making whiney noises the whole time. The smile on the other boy’s face had been directed at him, and still dazed, and probably slight shiny from the dog’s-RJ’s- spit, Michael tried to comprehend how he had even thought this boy was anything but his own little source of sunlight.

The huge smile which had brought into view his dark coloured and prominent cheek bones, turned into a teeny, tiny smirk and he began to scold the dog. In a playful manner he held the dog in one arm, and fluffed up all of its fur with the other whilst saying, “RJ, what do you think you’re doing running off like that? You had me all scared there, boy! Don’t do that again!” The tone of voice he used was endearing and reminded Michael of something maternal and somewhat fatherly. The dog tried to bury itself in the crook of the boy’s arm, and when it looked like he had succeeded and the red head could only see the body and no head of the dog, did the tanned boy look up.

His hair had flopped into his eyes from looking down at the dog; it was brown with the slightest reminders of blonde streaking the front. He used a hand to push through it, and it mostly seamed to stay where he pushed it back, some of it fell back down though and it made Michael want to push it back for the other boy. It made him look less perfect, which with the way he was dressed in those black converse, skin tight black skinny jeans, a top with the lyrics from some obscure song and this adorable little dog in his arms, paired with the fact his eyes were still twinkling and his jaw was so, so straight but his cheeks just begged to be pinched between his pale, stubby fingers, probably just made him look more perfect to be honest.

He gave the pale boy a closed lipped smile, it could have been a smirk, but did it matter? He was still there in front of him and hadn’t just received his dog and left Michael there with the paw prints over his skin. Michael did notice how his chest wasn’t heaving from the sprint he had done across the park, not that he was looking at the dark haired boy’s chest or anything. No, because he wasn’t wondering if he worked out and what his chest looked like under his thin black t-shirt.

The boy shrugged the dog in his arms and looked at him as he said, “RJ, what do you think you’re doing smothering such an attractive guy,” he pretended to still be talking to the dog, and the colour on Michael’s already red cheeks began to grow and he fought to keep his mouth from flopping open, “-with great music taste by the way-“ the boy added with lilt in his voice and the raising of a finger as if it was an afterthought. The music was still playing out of Michael’s disregarded headphones, but shutting it off to conserve his ever dwindling phone battery was the last of his problems.

“With your little doggy kisses without even taking him out on a date first?” He finished of his question with almost an incredulous tone, and smirked at Michael who was still on the ground. The dog wiggled and its rear end stuck up in the air as it tried to worm its way through the crook of the boy’s arm between his side and arm. The dogs’ tail wagged in the air, almost as if it had picked up on the playful conversation between its owner and himself.

Dumbfounded and gawping like a fish, Michael stared at the tanned boy. He was still on the ground, but now sitting up right with his feet planted flat on the ground and his arms bracing himself upright from behind. If he had been in the sun it would have looked like he was sunbathing. The other boy giggled -oh my god, he giggled- a sound similar to the laughter of a young child, it started high and trailed of even higher at the end. It reminded Michael of the feeling of waking up early in the morning to the sound of chirping birds and streaming light through slightly parted curtains.

The dog had given up its pursuit and had resorted to flipping itself onto its back with its head hanging upside down. Its eyes set on Michael, and he didn’t know whether to look at it, the ground, or the bright eyes of the boy.

“Looks like I’ll just have to do that bit for you then, doesn’t it RJ?” the boy spoke. To say his heart dropped into his stomach was an understatement. More like it dropped to the bottom of his shoes and what stopped it from hitting the ground was only the thick soles.

The dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and he almost looked like he was smiling. The tanned boy was definitely smiling, when he reached a strong arm out to Michael and pulled him up. Michael stood, noticing then how tall the other boy was and taking solace in the fact that for once Michael wasn’t the taller one. His headphones hung limply from the pocket where his phone was. The tinny sound filled the space, and they trailed on the floor.

“Hey, I’m Calum” he said, warm hand still gripping his paler one. Michael thought he felt calluses on them, but from the spinning in his head, it could have just been his brains’ way of coping with the fact that he, Calum, was still in Michael’s space and holding his hand and looking at him and smiling.

“Mi-” His voice came out lower than intended so he coughed and started again. “Michael. My name’s Michael.” 

The other boy beamed, almost blinding him with his pearly white teeth and the colour in his high cheeks. “Oh and this is RJ” he quipped, shrugging the dog in his arms. It gave out a little bark and wiggled on its back at the red head.

Thoughts and emotions raced through Michael’s head. Okay okay, this was way too much like a book or the lyrics of a song to be real, he thought. ‘It’s okay’, he told himself, ‘The tightening feeling reality that this is all a dream, will be gone once you actually wake up and have had a coffee or something’.

“So ‘bout that date?”. Came a voice other than his own.

* * *

So that was how, two hours later, headphones retrieved, dog stretched across both their laps, they sat listening to music under the tree Michael had claimed as his own. The head of the dog was in his lap, and he ran his hand through its slightly knotted hair, and smoothed out the tufts by his ears. Calum was pressed close to his side, ‘for the dog, of course’ he had said as he shuffled that little bit closer. The tail of the dog thumped across the boy’s lap. With both of their backs to the tree, he lent on it, the familiar feeling of the bark biting into his skin helping him to maybe think this wasn’t a dream.

A headphone in one ear each helped Michael to realise that maybe the thumping of a song to drown out the world and all in it, is better when shared with someone else. Toes tapping to music and hands strumming along in the dirt, only inches apart, were better than the longing in his head for someone to talk to. The sounds of people singing was not the same as companionship no matter which way he tried to spin it, and the boy next to him, whose eyes would light up and sparkle when a song the two of them had in common came on, was something he had been longing for. He couldn’t hear the music from outside the headphones now, and it was as if the sound had been calling out, and now that the call had been answered, the songs and riffs didn’t needed to cry out to someone, anyone.

But when Calum’s hand, which he had so deliberately moved that inch closer, found Michael’s, and their fingers interlaced, the fluttering in Michael’s chest lulled. The bird stopped trying to take flight, and stopped crashing against its cage.

-

Only later on, much later on, when a dog named RJ would run around in-between his and Calum’s feet as they cooked in their shared apartment kitchen, with some song with loud vocals, and a giggle that reminded him of birds chirping in the morning could be found within the shared apartment, would Michael realise it was because that bird had been set free. A boy with a dog named RJ, had found a key, unlocked a door he didn’t know had been shut for so long, and set something so important free.

-

But to begin with, neither Michael nor Calum knew of keys, and birds and cages so he savoured in the feeling of the tanned boy’s hand in his, the weight of a dog in his lap and the slight pressure of lips on his pale cheek as Calum twisted his head and kissed his now glowing skin. He squeezed his hand, and slowing began to set Michael free.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it?? 
> 
> maybe leave a comment/kudos as they make me very happy :))


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